


Summer Haze

by MirielOfGisborne



Series: Forget and Forgive [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bag End, Comfort/Angst, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Existential Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hobbit Culture, Hobbiton, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Leaving Home, M/M, Male Slash, Married Characters, Married Life, Protective Bilbo, Protective Thorin, Romance, Sad Bilbo, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Slash, Sleep, Sleepiness, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirielOfGisborne/pseuds/MirielOfGisborne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A little over a year after the start of "An Unexpected Journey," Bilbo Baggins, just married to Thorin Oakenshield, returns to the Shire for their honeymoon. One hazy summer afternoon, he finally comes to terms with being a different hobbit than the one he had been at the beginning of the journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title and story inspired by the song "In Sumerian Haze" by Sirenia

Bilbo emerged from the woods, back from one of his cherished summer indulgences – gathering wild mushrooms and berries to take home and make into delicious recipes. It had been over a year since he had done that last, and much had changed in the meantime. Today his basket of fresh, flavory things was for two.

At the edge of the forest, Thorin lay on his back in the grass shaded by a great ash tree, his left arm folded under his head. Wearing no armour or furs, eyebrows relaxed and eyes shut in a very good impression of peaceful rest, he seemed to be napping. And yet, his right hand appeared a little too aware that it was residing around the hilt of his sword. Bilbo deposited the basket on the ground and sat down next to the dozing dwarf, leaning against the trunk of the ash. Without opening his eyes, Thorin shifted on one side and settled his head into Bilbo’s lap. The sword got tucked between them, but still within quick reach, while Thorin’s right hand curled around Bilbo’s knee instead.

“So, in addition to being the King’s Consort, I’m also the King’s Pillow,” teased Bilbo.

“If you don’t mind,” droned Thorin, looking utterly pleased with that arrangement.

“I don’t, actually,” said Bilbo, sweeping back a thick wave of hair that had winded around Thorin’s throat. “Berry?” he fumbled a bit in his basket, then extracted a truly luscious raspberry and took it close to Thorin’s lips.

“Mm?” moaned Thorin, scrunching up his eyebrows and pulling his head back slightly. He opened a suspicious eye to examine Bilbo’s offering.

“Do you want a berry?” Bilbo rearticulated. “I’ve got a nice ripe one for you.”

Having decided that the little fruit was worth a try, Thorin opened his mouth and received the raspberry from Bilbo, then resettled in his lap, munching with mild satisfaction.

“Good?”

Thorin used the same interjection from before to indicate approval, and Bilbo smiled, resolving to just let him be.

He gazed instead at his surroundings. They were in a clearing at the edge of the forest over the top of the Hill, with a rather nice, wide view of part of Hobbiton. He remembered the last look that he had taken before following Gandalf, Thorin and the rest of the company on the promised adventure. It had been a chilly spring morning that had actually put a spring in his step away from home, not a warm summer evening as it was now, tempting him to just sit there in the scented grass and enjoy the moment. Nothing like a summer evening in the Shire, watching the sky changing colours. That was what Bilbo used to think. No, he believed it with the same firmness of his conviction that there would always be a Baggins living in Bag End. Something broke inside him, like a crack rising on the sides of a china bowl, branching out into a ghostly tree, as he felt, surely, that the firmness of his love for the Shire was no longer there. Impossible to control, a sob of pain surged through his chest.

Thorin heard and turned his head to look up, his eyes icy clear. Bilbo looked down, knowing that there was no time to try and hide. Instead, he placed a hand on the side of Thorin’s forehead, his fingers digging a little into it and finding with invariable surprise that the dwarf’s skin was warmer than he expected it to be. 

Thorin sat up, his gaze fixed on Bilbo’s, growing with worry and questions.

“Hold me?” whispered Bilbo.

Thorin drew closer, opening his arms, and Bilbo nestled tightly against his chest even if it was still hot enough outside.

“Have I done something?” asked Thorin, as he closed his arms around the hobbit, who felt himself shrinking under their weight.

Bilbo snorted lightly. “You have done plenty. You’ve changed me, Thorin. I am not the same hobbit that I was when I decided to go on your quest.” He was aware of a note of agony dancing in his voice. “This place was my world. I was in love with it.”

“I know,” said Thorin, caressing his hair.

“I don’t, I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Ah, I see now what it is that I have done. Forgive me, Bilbo, I certainly did not mean to take anything away from you. And I understand better now why you love it here so much. I wish that you did not have to leave for me.”

“That’s the thing,” said Bilbo, pulling himself from Thorin’s embrace to see him properly. “I, I know that I would miss it, but I think that I would miss you more. And, for some reason, I really don’t know why, but it makes me sad.”

Thorin gave him a comforting glance. “Leaving home is never easy.”

“Even when I know that I would be unhappy here alone?”

“Even then. You know, you do not have to part with your home forever. I can appoint someone to take care of it, make sure that unwelcome relatives do not appropriate anything you do not want given. I would not keep you from visiting from time to time.”

Bilbo opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a while. "Only if you come with me," he said, finally, stunned by Thorin's generosity.

“I may not be able to do that. But I am sure that Fili and Kili would love another round at your pantry. And I know that they have also roused the curiosity of my sister.”

“Thorin, I -”

“I know the sacrifice that you are making to be with me,” said Thorin, his hands wrapping caringly around Bilbo’s ears. “I want you to know that it does not have to be complete.”

Bilbo felt the sting of tears. He plunged again into the dwarf’s arms, and stayed there until it passed.

“Do you want to go back? It is getting dark. And I am getting hungry,” said Thorin eventually.

Bilbo had rarely been so grateful for a laugh, taking away for an instant the veil of sorrow that had settled over his heart. “Yes, you’re right,” he said, straightening himself again. “I stuffed myself full of all sorts of berries. I forgot it’s been hours since we had a proper meal.”

They both got up, Bilbo taking his basket of delicacies. The return journey was made in complete silence, and that is how they entered Bag End, wordlessly, first Bilbo, then Thorin. Bilbo made for the kitchen and laid the basket on the table.

Thorin followed behind. “Is there anything I can do now?” he asked.

Bilbo turned and smiled. “Well, you could kiss me and remind me that I am making the right choice.”

Thorin grinned. He came closer. He did as asked. It was a ravishing, passionate kiss that made Bilbo think not of Shire sunsets, lovely seed cake and greening gardens.

Taking a while to come back into more respectable senses, he eventually found his ability to speak again. “Hmm, I think it’s starting to come back to me.”

With a subtle smile that contained a certain amount of pride, Thorin sat on the bench near the table. “Perhaps it was not such a good idea to come here at this time.”

“Oh, it was a very good idea. Where else do you think we might have found such wonderful raspberries?” Thorin stared at him, not taking the bait. “Look, I’ll be all right. I promise. Now let’s see about getting you fed.”


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin appreciated the mushrooms that Bilbo had picked from the woods more than the berries, especially since they had been thrown into a thick, puffy omelette along with a generous amount of ham and cheese. Bilbo had noticed the dwarves’ preference for things non-vegetable, and Thorin was certainly no exception. Not that he had seemed much interested in food in general during the quest, a worrying aspect which Bilbo had pondered every time they had had a meal and Thorin had only nibbled at something at best. Fortunately, in the meantime, he seemed to have acquired a much healthier appetite. He still never allowed himself to appear unmannered, but table manners were something that agreed with a hobbit of Bilbo’s upbringing, as opposed to not eating all of one’s meals.

  
After dinner, Thorin had offered as usual to help with the cleaning of the table, but Bilbo had shooed him away, claiming full authority over his kitchen. The rest of the house was open for exploration, however, and Bilbo knew that Thorin enjoyed looking around, much to the hobbit’s surprise and delight alike.

  
Finishing his business in the kitchen, Bilbo walked out into his study, intent on finding Thorin, wherever he had gone and whatever questions he might have had about normal Hobbit things that seemed either strange or useless to him. Yet, Bilbo didn’t have to put much effort into his search, as the dwarf was closer than expected. He was sitting in Bilbo’s favourite armchair near the hearth, with a book in his lap and his feet propped on a stool. His head was leaning to his left against the back of the armchair, his eyelids were lowered and his fingers curled dormant over the cover of the book. He had unmistakeably fallen asleep while trying to read, much like Bilbo himself had done countless times in that very same spot.

  
Unsure of whether to feel astonished or simply endeared, but certain that this was a peculiar scene, Bilbo collected the book from Thorin’s lap, tucked it under his arm, and caressed Thorin’s greying temple, in an attempt to wake him up gently. He appeared comfortable enough the way he was, but Bilbo knew very well what sleeping in armchairs did to one’s back, especially for a rather great dwarf sleeping in an armchair sized for hobbits.

  
“Go to bed, Thorin,” said Bilbo as the dwarf opened his eyes and turned his head lazily.

  
“It seems you have managed to exhaust me,” said Thorin, straightening somewhat in his seat.

  
Bilbo smiled, more to himself, remembering a similar remark from Kili, made with the cheekiest of grins, as he and his older brother had ambushed the poor hobbit on that sweetest of mornings, as he had let himself out of the royal chambers, after what had been the first time that he had given himself fully to Thorin. He preferred however not to impart that particular conversation to him, so he said nothing.

  
“I fear I am not what I was years ago,” continued Thorin as he got up.

  
“Well, I have no complaints,” said Bilbo decisively, making a very serious face and clasping his hands together at his back.

  
Thorin returned a flattered little smirk, then leaned to give Bilbo a kiss on the cheek, his hair and beard brushing stirringly against the hobbit’s sensitive skin. His lips were nicely warm from having been asleep and Bilbo closed his eyes, trying to slow down the rapid thaw of his sobriety. Thorin was indeed not a young dwarf, but he still commanded quite a lot of power to seduce and not disappoint. At least for a hobbit, it was more than enough.

  
“Are you coming?” asked Thorin, straightening his shoulders.

  
The low, velvety sound of his voice was also very stirring. Bilbo felt it go through his skin and his clothes and his bones more than he heard it. “In a minute,” he whispered, not looking up.

  
As Thorin walked away, Bilbo sighed deeply. He extracted the book from under his arm and sat down in the armchair that the dwarf had just left. It had been a strange evening, one on which he had felt more than ever that he was not the same hobbit that had sat right there lending an unwilling ear to Gandalf’s efforts to convince him of his hidden potential for adventure. He had not felt much different when he had been gallantly carried into his home by Thorin days before. Of course, he had never expected to enter his hobbit hole other than on his own two feet, much less in the arms of a legendary dwarf king, and there was the obvious difference that he and Thorin were no longer at odds, but home had still felt like home. He still knew where everything was, he could still bustle happily about in his kitchen as if he had never been away, but tonight even that familiar activity had seemed hollow of the simple pleasure that usually came with it. Dinner had been mostly for Thorin, as Bilbo had been more content to watch him enjoy his food than to eat it himself. His filling but otherwise light meal of berries had apparently sated his appetite for the evening.

  
It was stranger still to see Thorin dozing without a care in that very armchair, having made himself comfortable in a place upon which he had previously looked with nothing but disdain. He was even reading his book! Or he had been reading it until interrupted by falling sleep. Bilbo had even forgotten that he still had the book in his hands. He looked at it and realized that it was the very same one that had been residing on the arm of the chair on that fateful night when thirteen dwarves and a wizard had come to disrupt his home life. Had he really never sat in his armchair since returning? It appeared so, although he was unable to remember precisely. He had been so enraptured by Thorin and the bliss that they were sharing, that everything else seemed to exist shrouded in a veil of fog.

  
Deciding that he neither knew nor wished for a way under that veil, Bilbo put the book back where it had been and went to wash up for bed. As he finally reached his bedroom, after more than a mere minute, he found that Thorin was already snuggled into his pillow, adrift in deep slumber. Bilbo climbed into bed, careful not to disturb, and settled under the covers. There were many things that he liked to do with Thorin, but simply watching him sleep was one of his favourites. That was another strange sight, Thorin sleeping in his bed, quiet and peaceful, as he had never been during the quest. It seemed that he too was a different dwarf than the brooding, haughty leader of the company who had occupied that very same bed but had spent almost the entire night singing to himself of past sorrows and dark days ahead. More than his resonating voice, it had been the sombre beauty of his song that had also kept Bilbo awake, and that had ultimately made up his mind.

  
Now there was only the beauty to contemplate, and fresher, sweeter memories to think about. Bilbo kept his eyes open for as long as he could, and then he too fell into a peaceful sleep next to Thorin.


End file.
